Yasmine...
Rineko...
Ashanti...
Talen...
The Monarch is what they call themselves. They are the deadliest assassins in New York ruling the streets and inflicting fear in the hearts of the people who crossed them. They work with no one....well that i...
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Yasmine's POV
Walking down these narrow hallways for the millionth time, bringing me in to this harsh reality that I live in.
The screams of the deranged and insane echoing inside my troubled head. The stench of blood and sorrow ingulfing my senses like a flame.
How the hell did someone end up in a place like that...
Well you see it's not that hard to understand. The people behind these doors have crossed The Monarch.
Who are the Monarch you ask? We are the Queen's of New York.
Why do we do what we do? Don't worry soon you'll find out.
As I finally reach my destination at the end of the hallway, I put on my black leather gloves and unlock the door that seals the fate of Will Carter.
When I walk in the room I see Willie's eyes flash with a familliar expression I have seen many times before.
Fear....
"Has he talked yet?" I asked Rineko.
"No the bastard won't tell me anything I've been at it for hours."
Mhmph. "Well I guess we'll just have to use more drastic measures don't you think Neko?"
"You talking about blow torches and knives or unleashing Ashanti's crazy ass on him?" she replies with a light chuckle.
"Speaking of Shanti where is she?"
"Just handling a few other slight issues at the moment."
"Issues consisting of?"
Rineko gave me a sheepish sort of look which made me a little worried about what more bad news she could have for me. "Don't be too upset but more of your shipments have went missing."
"How much is more Neko?" I asked very much annoyed and ready to kill anything and anyone.
"I'd say about a quarter of your regular amount."
If you could see the look on my face you'd be shitting yourself, which Will looked like he could do any second now.
The look on his face made me smirk..
"Last chance Will. Where the fuck are my shipments, and don't lie you know how I feel about liars."
The 40 year old man spits blood on the floor adding to the masterpiece he created.
"Fuck off." he manages to say with blood dripping from his mouth, and with the remaining teeth he has left.
A boisterous laugh escapes my lips. I instantly grab my Beretta M9 from it's holster and shoot him in both of his knee caps.
